


Haven

by TururaJ



Category: Aldnoah.Zero (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Foul Language, Hurt/Comfort, InaSure Anthology, M/M, Mentions of Violence, Minor Character Death, Romance, a bit of angst, a bit of violence, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 11:45:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9606293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TururaJ/pseuds/TururaJ
Summary: It’s not so easy to find a haven where you’d want to stay.For theInaSure Anthology





	

**Author's Note:**

> The song, playing in the pub, is “Cotton Eye Joe” by Rednex, which, actually, gave a start to this story. I wanted to write something light and fun to make the characters happy, but then they suddenly decided they needed a more serious turn for the sake of the “hellish” theme. However, I still had my fun with all the quotes and sex and dialogues and, of course, the ending.
> 
> There is also one more quote inside the text:  
>  _“Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is enemy action.”_  
>  © Ian Fleming, from “Goldfinger”, 7th novel about James Bond.
> 
> That said, English is not my native language, so I’m not sure the translation is perfect, but I tried my best for the sake of Inasure. I’m deeply thankful I got an opportunity to participate in the anthology project. Thanks everyone who had helped me with translation, especially the wonderful [hakumei_hogosha](http://archiveofourown.org/users/hakumei_hogosha/profile), who agreed to beta this monster (all the rest mistakes are mine), and, of course, thank you, [Rosiel-san](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosiel_AZ/profile), for letting me join the fun!

-1-

_“It may be hard for an egg to turn into a bird: it would be a jolly sight harder for it to learn to fly while remaining an egg.”_  
© C. S. Lewis

Inaho jumped off the last steps of the side ladder and straightened, finding under his feet the solid pavement. The deserted quay was unremarkable: a low iron fence separated the shoreline from the bay bathed in the sunlight; a bit further off a few dirty cars were huddled together on the small parking lot; a thin road ran into the distance, merging into the mountain spiral highway. Fluffy clouds danced on the lazy waves that were caused by the arrival of the ferry. High in the sky the wind carried the loud voices of the silver gulls.

Yuki was leaning back onto the blue door of the low van and fanning herself with a plastic binder, the documents inside looked ready to escape. She met Inaho with a cheerful smile, and he obediently slid into his older sister’s arms, closing his eyes and finally allowing himself to relax. They may not have seen each other for the last five years, but no one could ever replace a family member. They were together when their parents died; they had survived all the troubles of the orphanage together; and together they grew up caring about each other. Neither distance, nor jobs, nor personal relationships - nothing could break these strong family bonds.

“Nao, I’ve been waiting for ages!” his sister grumbled, puffing out her cheeks. The plastic binder gently bumped into the back of Inaho’s head, but he didn’t move, enjoying the sudden feeling of peace. Yuki, sensing that he needed a minute to cope with the unexpected emotions, only hugged him tighter and patted his back. “You should’ve quit your damn job four years ago.”

The playfulness in his sister’s voice was too quickly replaced by a soft tone, giving away her worry. Inaho merely nodded, stepped aside and placed the duffel bag back onto his shoulder as it tried to dart down to the pavement. Yuki was right. If only he had stopped chasing the unattainable at the right time, he wouldn’t have to deal now with frequent migraines and dangerous epileptic seizures. He should’ve dismissed all thoughts about Asseylum, at the very least when she had announced her engagement to Mazuurek. It seemed strange that he - a person who always preferred logic to emotions - got bogged down by his feelings so much that almost paid for it with his life.

Throwing his bag inside the interior of the van, Inaho settled next to his sister, buckled the seat belt and leaned his elbow upon the lowered passenger-side window. Yuki skillfully directed the van onto the highway, under the green canopy creeping along the narrow road. Fresh air permeated the van; Yuki started whistling an unfamiliar tune and seemed in no hurry to bombard Inaho with questions.

He smiled faintly when his sister happily signaled to the oncoming car and got a friendly beep in response. From time to time Yuki liked to boast in her letters that she was deeply loved by the townsfolk, and although Inaho never doubted Yuki’s cheerful and unreserved nature to win over many people, to see the proof with his own eyes was more than nice. Yuki was happy in the place she decided to make her life. Inaho, on the contrary, appeared to become an outsider and a squeezed orange so much so he was never visited at the hospital over the past year of the rehabilitation. The only thing he received was an unsigned card and a completely impersonal gift.

Inaho shifted his gaze to his left hand. The black strap elegantly encircled his wrist, the expensive brand watch was made of white gold; the tag, which Inaho left in the gift box, stated that the strap was produced of the alligator leather. Inaho didn’t know who chose the gift - Asseylum or her husband, but, in all honesty, considered such costs to be meaningless. He would’ve been content with simple gratitude, but when he had regained consciousness the desired visit never happened, and he finally understood that the time to radically change his life had come. However, he didn’t have enough heart to throw away the gift, and now it accompanied him everywhere.

The smartphone, which Inaho carried inside the hidden pocket of his blue uniform blazer, commenced the insistent vibrating. He pulled it out into the light, not paying attention to how Yuki playfully wiggled her eyebrows after noticing a photo of Inko on the display. Inaho reluctantly replied to the message - the girl was wondering if he had arrived safely - and placed the phone back. His relationship with Inko also had to be severed, and the process was quite painful, despite the fact that Inaho had long ago warned her to never expect anything from him. Perhaps, it had been most inconsiderate of Inaho to exploit the girl who was in love with him, more so his childhood friend, but he couldn’t help it. Enduring Asseylum’s closeness and at the same time unattainability was extremely hard on him. Inaho didn’t have any hypersexual disorder, but letting his body suffer without the much needed relief was pure madness, it distracted him from work. 

At first Inko tried to seem strong, then came the tears. Over and over again she offered to move in with him, to attempt living together at the new place, but although her words weren’t without a fair share of reason, Inaho refused. He had no other feelings for her but gratitude. Inko was a good-looking, kind and a very modest girl, very gentle and docile in bed. Inaho was sure that when she’d recover from stress, she’d quickly find a suitable partner. Sadly, Inaho had many chances to ascertain that even on the verge of death his heart belonged only to Asseylum.

The fresh mountain air filled his lungs. Inaho closed his eyes and leaned back into the seat, feeling the little jumps the van did while making its way over the small bumps and potholes in the old highway. The quiet roar of the engine and his sister’s inarticulate tunes were soothing, however, the memories of the past, the ones he desperately wanted to leave behind, still loomed persistently inside his head.

Inaho couldn’t resist running his fingers over the wristwatch the same way the sunbeams were scurrying over its face. The first time he met Asseylum Vers Allusia she was dancing around the garden, holding up the skirt of her white festive dress in her hands, looking exactly like one of these fleeting sunbeams. Dazzling and beautiful, she fluttered among the guests as a free little bird, looking like a complete stranger amidst the bunch of people, dressed in austere evening wear.

Inaho had been charmed since their first meeting and alarmed, because Asseylum Vers Allusia was the granddaughter of none other but Rayregalia Vers Rayvers - an outrageous politician who was widely known for his radical views. The old schemer and billionaire had managed to make too many enemies in his long career. Although Asseylum’s parents never planned to be engaged in politics, the news of their murder became known all over the country. The terrorists wanted Rayregalia’s resignation, but he refused to meet the terrorists’ demands and thus spared neither his own son nor his son’s wife. But he did spend a lot of money on arranging the reliable security for his granddaughter since the tragedy - a security force Inaho was part of.

Inaho always demonstrated responsibility in the way he handled his work, and that was what allowed him to quickly rise above the crowd of other employees, but meeting Asseylum made his life different. Perhaps, for the first time since his admission to a specialized school, training there, graduating and working in one of the most prestigious security guard companies in the country Inaho was pleased that he had become a professional bodyguard. He felt himself needed.

But as it turned out, love brought not only joy but also pain. It made no difference how many times he saved her, how many times he threw himself in front of the bullets, how many times he believed Asseylum’s words that he was “a part of her” - in the end there was nothing but disappointment. If only Asseylum had found the will to turn him down earlier... Inaho would’ve accepted her rejection and backed down, but even after getting engaged she continued to thoughtlessly allure him with bright smiles, wonderful chirping and naïve sweet words.

Inaho pulled the sleeve of his black shirt over the wristwatch and looked at the endless road. The climb was over, opening up a view of the hilly plain dotted with the cozy cottages. Green hills stretched for many miles, until they were absorbed by the softwood forest, beyond which lay the horizon line together with a chain of mountains shrouded in mist. Amidst the vast expanse of fields Inaho noticed the lazily moving white spots: a flock of sheep was grazing on the lush meadow. The owner was nowhere to be seen, probably, was using a GPS tracking device for observing the animals’ movements.

“The town is about twenty minutes away,” Yuki said and frowned slightly, lowering the sun visor: the sun reached its zenith and was blinding, it was time for lunch. “Don’t worry, Nao. Though your house is on the outskirts, there is no problem with the Internet or TV. It’s the perfect place to rest: very quiet, lots of fresh air. We can find you a nice simple job later. No more staying in hospitals.”

Inaho silently touched his sister’s hand after she shifted the gears. For a moment her hand quivered, but Yuki forced a smile, and Inaho just now realized how much she must have been worried every time he ended up in hospital with serious wounds. The bulletproof vest was useless against a sniper aiming for the head, and the last wound robbed him of his health. A heavy head injury induced him into a coma for two weeks and afterwards gave rise to many complications: dizziness, headaches, epileptic seizures. The doctor wouldn’t stop showing surprise at his survival after Inaho had been discharged from the hospital, and even now he remembered the doctor’s words: to never skip pills.

The hills continued to roll, but one-storied houses, surrounded by low fences and well-kept pieces of land, started appearing along the highway. A thief wouldn’t have a problem to maneuver over such fences, but Inaho immediately halted his train of thoughts: the crime rate was much lower in small towns. Most people knew each other in person; furthermore the only way into the town, hidden among the valley of hills, deep forests and pathless mountains, lay across the bay, and the ferry arrived to the quay once a week. Only a foolish thief would put himself into such difficult escape scenario.

While Inaho was speculating on whether he should ponder on the safety measures of his new home, the van slowly moved into the broad streets of the town. Stopping the van at the behest of the rare traffic lights, Yuki kept leaning out of the side window to greet her acquaintances. The reflections of light lazily caressed the roofs of two and three-storied buildings. Inaho noticed several cafes and bars, a huge supermarket and several administrative buildings, also a sports centre, the sign on which said that there was a swimming pool inside. Yuki directed the van towards the clinic to show Inaho her office.

Trees and bushes decorated the lawns, adjoined by the comfortable benches. People smiled and wandered through the tidy streets, walking their excited dogs. There weren’t many cars, but wherever Inaho looked he saw the bicycle parking racks. Inaho planned to rent a car, but the idea to buy a bicycle now appealed to him more: despite taking the pills, the likelihood of seizures remained, and if it happened while Inaho was driving, the passers-by could get hurt.

“We’re almost there, Nao.”

The town was left behind, giving way to the similar hills and fields with a lot of lonely cottages. At one point Yuki got off the highway, steering the van up the country road, and Inaho quickly figured out which cottage they were heading to. A one-storey house stood close to the hillside and seemed to grow from within the earth: the special footing supported the veranda above the ground. A narrow balcony circled the house and led to the front steps, thereby allowing the owner to enter the house from the main entrance or the veranda. The blue sky was reflected in the wide panoramic windows. The expensive ceramic tile covered the gable roof, looking like the red-brown scales.

Yuki stopped the van at the parking place made of paving flagstones. The stony pathways began there and ran in different directions: one led to the steps ascending to the front porch, and another went round the cottage footing and disappeared into a small grove. Inaho picked up his duffel bag from the interior of the van, slammed the door shut and covered his eyes from the blinding sun to take a better look at the gazebo, which peeked out from under the shadows of the tall pines. The golden rays of the sun were illuminating the round table and wooden benches, accusingly exposing the places where the maroon paint had come off.

The keys clinked happily in Yuki’s hands, and Inaho followed his sister up the stairs, towards the porch with a wall-mounted canopy. There were some ornamental trees and shrubs on the hillside: they enveloped the house from all sides. Inaho felt an overwhelming urge to take a nap and touched the back of his head, feeling heavy. It was quiet, only the wind played with the foliage, making it rustle. Yuki opened the door and let Inaho go first inside the narrow space of the entryway. Inaho left the shoes next to an empty chest of drawers and went into the living room. The wood block flooring was done in the diagonal pattern; the plaster walls design displayed the mysterious tousles of plants: judging by the delicate work, it had cost the previous owner a lot of money.

There were two doors in the living room: behind the first one Inaho discovered a moderate kitchen, and the second one led to the bathroom and toilet. The veranda was separated from the living room by a glass partition wall - Inaho could see a wide sofa, a dining table and several randomly placed chairs there. The living room had only a double bed and a wardrobe, which meant he would be using it as a bedroom. Inaho dropped the bag near the bed, took off his blazer, rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and undid the top buttons, then settled on the bed. He had enough money to furnish the cottage as he wished, but right now he wanted to rest after a long journey.

Yuki came closer, gently stroked his forehead, smoothing back hair out of his eyes.

“Feeling tired, Nao?”

Inaho gave a barely noticeable nod. Despite the long rehabilitation he was tiring very fast and often fell asleep as soon as his body was in a horizontal position. Yuki quietly moved around the room, and her voice sounded like it came from afar.

“Then take a nap, I’ll make something for lunch.”

-2-

_“We have reason to believe that man first walked upright to free his hands for masturbation.”_  
© Lily Tomlin

Sometimes Yuki could be very stubborn. Messages kept attacking his phone until Inaho wouldn’t agree to leave his bed to visit Yuki in the town and also to buy the necessary provisions. He still hadn’t acquired the bicycle, but long walks were good for his health. If Inaho wasn’t feeling well, Yuki always took him back to the house or asked to help one of her friends. That was how Inaho made acquaintance with Calm: the young man’s side job at the clinic was to transport the patients from their homes and back. Unfortunately for Inaho, Calm turned out to be no less stubborn than Yuki.

“Inaho, you should get out of the house more!” he insisted, spamming Inaho’s mailbox with directions of how to get to the bars, where he hanged out with his friends in the evenings. “You’ve moved here for good, right? The guys are already sick of each other. Come join us! The girls will be happy.”

Inaho regularly took his pills and felt good: he exercised a lot, did the jogging and spent much time outdoors, lounging with a tablet in the gazebo. The summer ended, replaced by a gloomy September. The cold winds came down from the mountains, carrying a curtain of gray clouds. The rainy season had yet to start, but Yuki had warned Inaho that next month the rainfall would be inevitable: the town would resemble a swamp for two or three weeks, therefore, she advised him to round up some supplies just in case. 

Inko still sent him messages, and though she never hinted at anything, Inaho’s replies were brief and to the point. The thought of Inko, however, was what made him accept Calm’s offer to visit the pub. His body finally began to liven up after the severe stress and recently reminded him of the certain physiological needs. No, he wasn’t going to look for a sex partner, but deemed it impossible to amuse himself with memories of Asseylum for the rest of his life, so the opportunity to meet Calm’s friends finally made sense.

Calm picked him up on the way and laughed, smacking him on the shoulder, when Inaho got inside the mid-sized SUV, careful not to dirty his black trench coat with mud which was covering the car door and its bottom.

“Inaho, you look as if you’re going to an official reception.” Calm scratched his freckled nose, started the engine and darted a mocking look at him. “The girls will be thrilled though.”

Calm was dressed in plain blue jeans and a green t-shirt with a bright yellow inscription that said _‘You look at the man of your dreams!’_ The image of a simple country guy was supplemented by the sneakers with wrongly done shoestrings. However, to think about the town as of a small village wasn’t exactly right, the infrastructure was very developed. There was even a helicopter pad on the south side of the town used by the emergency service for transporting critically ill people.

Inaho looked at his perfectly pressed black pants and a white shirt tucked under the belt, at his polished shoes, and came to the conclusion that right now he and Calm were as different as night and day. Actually, Inaho hadn’t yet renewed his poor stock of casual clothes; he had brought only a tracksuit and a couple of shirts from his past life. And wearing a tracksuit for the evening gathering in the pub seemed inappropriate.

By the time Calm parked the car near the pub with a flashy fiery red neon sign _“The Hellish”_ , the sky was already engulfed by the darkness. Inaho got out of the car and followed the young man through the grotesque arched door, stepping into the semi-darkness which reigned inside. The pub had only one room, but it was spacious. The metal chairs were aligned along the bar counter, their height could be adjusted. There also were several wooden tables and leather sofas near the far wall. The pub’s interior was decorated in brown and red tones and matched its name well: the malicious devils were smirking from the paintings, their tails wrapped around each other; the waitress was wearing a wig with horns; and the menu cover demonstrated the curved lettering: _“Open me all ye who enter here”._

Few people were in the pub. Calm introduced Inaho to Nina - a fair, but excessively communicative girl - and started calling his crowd of friends who seemed to be late. Inaho ordered an orange juice: he didn’t want to mix booze and pills. After half of an hour the place became full of strangers but no one harassed him with questions, and if the girls’ curiosity was going overboard, Calm proficiently diverted their attention with stupid jokes. Inaho didn’t experience any discomfort being surrounded by people: while performing his duties he often had to attend different events and establishments, but for this very reason it was difficult to relax. His eyes surveyed the room by habit, memorizing faces and measuring the guests’ behavior in search of possible threats.

When the time shifted past eleven o’clock, and the assembled crowd got high on alcohol, Rayet - Calm’s fierce friend - slammed her beer mug down on the table in a manly manner, fixed her purple blouse and dragged the boys to the dance floor. Inaho used this moment to stealthily move to the bar counter. Dancing was not one of his fortes and he believed such skills to be a waste of time. Despite that he was in no hurry to leave: walking home at night and under the impact of the autumn wind was ill-advised. Inaho took one of the vacant chairs and ordered more juice while his eyes studied the dancing crowd. One of the women had long blond hair and looked very similar to Asseylum. Although he knew that it wasn’t her, his fingers once again longingly caressed his wristwatch.

“The girl is already taken, her boyfriend is sitting over that table. You’re not very observant, Kaizuka Inaho, are you?”

Inaho turned slightly to the owner of a pleasant voice, resting his elbow on the counter. Thin fingers held a glass of whiskey, and sea-blue eyes wistfully followed the movements of ice cubes in the glass. Short blond hair fell over the man’s forehead and cheekbones. A red cotton button-down shirt clung tightly to his torso, and the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing the delicate wrists. He wore tight black leather pants and pointy-toe shoes. Inaho didn’t have time to examine the young man earlier when Calm was introducing them to each other, because at that moment a new group of Calm’s friends had entered the pub, but Inaho did remember his name.

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” he answered back.

“Humor me.” Slaine Troyard smirked, taking a sip of whiskey.

Inaho once again looked around the pub to reaffirm his findings and, catching Troyard’s eye, said:

“You’re gay.”

Troyard choked on his whiskey. Inaho helpfully moved the paper napkin holder closer so that Troyard could clean up the mess on the counter. The bartender turned up the music at the request of the dancing guests. “Cotton Eye Joe” evoked the absolute delight: laughing, whistling and clapping became louder.

“You... I... W-what makes you think that?” Troyard’s face was flushed. He wiped his mouth in a too abrupt gesture, and his hands trembled treacherously for a second.

“First of all, the man in the far corner is ogling you too much, but doesn’t take any action, which makes me think, that you’ve already turned him down,” explained Inaho and didn’t miss the way Troyard warily frowned, but held himself back from turning around to verify his words. “Secondly, girls don’t ask you for a dance, yet even Calm, despite his unkempt appearance, won some of their attention. Thirdly, you too don’t seem like you want to be noticed.”

“M-maybe I’m m-married?” Troyard stuttered, signaling to the bartender to pour him more whiskey.

“There is no ring on your finger and no trace of any ring. Besides, if that was the case it’s unlikely you would’ve come to the pub alone,” Inaho summed everything up.

“To hell with you, Kaizuka!” Troyard hissed and moved his refilled glass closer. “You’re right, I’m gay. Now you can start insulting me as they love to do on the mainland.”

“I see no reason for insulting you.” Inaho blinked. During the last couple of minutes Troyard’s self-confidence transformed into embarrassment and confusion, then the obvious dissatisfaction with himself which changed into alertness, and now Troyard was mad at something he thought up. Even Yuki had never surprised Inaho with such an immense range of emotions.

“You’re not gay, are you?” Troyard asked with suspicion. Inaho genuinely tried to understand the course of his thoughts, but failed.

“I cannot say.” Before Asseylum no one had caught his attention, and the encounters with his right hand while taking a shower had been enough to relieve the tension. Inko became his first and last girlfriend. Sex with her was good and had a positive effect on his ability to concentrate and on keeping his body in good shape - of course, together with the other specialized training - but it went no farther than that.

“What do you mean you don’t know, Kaizuka? You do not look like some lame virgin who has no slightest idea about his orientation!” Troyard was so nervous that almost knocked over the glass of whiskey with his elbow. Inaho was fast enough to move his hand and catch it at the edge of the counter, and his fingers accidentally touched Troyard’s. Troyard jerked back his hand as if burned.

“I have never tried to indulge in sexual activities with men, so I do not know,” Inaho explained patiently. 

“If you... if you won’t stop saying this nonsense.” Troyard flushed even more, hid his face, and his hands took a tight grip on the glass. “I m-might think it’s a proposition.”

Inaho sat back, staring at his silent company. The conversation took a completely unexpected turn, but he wasn’t in a hurry to reject a possible offer. It had always been difficult for him to get along with people: the lack of visible emotions on his face scared potential acquaintances even though it was highly valued at his former job. Inaho perfectly understood that a long period of time would pass before he would be able to find a woman who’d like him enough to share a bed with him. With Inko it was a different matter as she had known him since childhood. Inaho unhurriedly finished his orange juice, weighing all the pros and cons, but in the end didn’t come up with any weighty arguments against the idea. In the worst case scenario he simply wouldn’t get aroused.

“We can try. However, I’m not very familiar with the details,” Inaho warned Troyard, and the man looked at him like he suddenly saw a ghost.

“You’re joking, right?” Troyard coughed, rubbing his neck. His Adam’s apple moved nervously. Inaho imagined pressing his lips against Troyard’s neck and running his hands under the fabric of the red shirt to hold the lithe waist, and felt interested. “I can’t believe a straight guy offers to spend the night with me.”

“And I don’t drive,” Inaho made the last comment, letting the final decision lie with Troyard. Troyard gave him an uncertain look, but then decisively finished his drink, left the money on the counter and sprang to his feet, still trying to hide his red cheeks. Inaho followed suit.

“I have a car, and I hope I’m not that drunk to go off the road,” Troyard said, picking up a leather jacket from the entrance coat rack. “But we are going to your place, because renting a room at a hotel there is like telling the whole town that I had seduced the newcomer, and the neighbors at my home are too nosey.”

Inaho put on his trench coat and moved behind Troyard across the road. A cold wind assaulted his back, tore off some yellowing leaves from the tree branches, and Inaho watched them descending to the back of a gray pickup truck, towards which Troyard was heading. The car was obviously not new, but seemed well-cared-for even under the poor light of a street lamp. There was an inscription on the hood which said: _‘Aldnoah Car Repair: we shall revive your car, even if it’s been to Mars.’_

Troyard waited for Inaho to get inside and then guided the pickup onto the road, asking Inaho for the right directions. Troyard handled the driving confidently, yet Inaho noticed some nervousness in the way he carried himself. The tense silence and the lack of attempts to start a conversation only confirmed Inaho’s observation.

“You don’t seem like a person who is used to one night stands,” Inaho voiced his doubts when the town lights disappeared behind the car. The black clouds swarmed in the night sky, hiding the stars. Only the lights, which came from the windows of the houses scattered across the valley, glimmered mysteriously in the middle of boundless darkness. The pickup headlamps were lighting up parts of the endless road. Troyard had slowed down, probably weary of coming across an unexpected surprise in the form of an astray sheep. Yuki had told Inaho that once or twice a year such incidents enlivened the headlines of the local newspaper.

“Do you really think the townsfolk share my preferences, Kaizuka?” Troyard snorted, gripping the wheel more tightly. “You’ve already seen my only admirer, and the bastard is married. Besides, I don’t trust people. You’re just... a safe option.”

“A safe option?” Inaho’s curiosity was piqued.

“You’re Miss Yuki’s brother. She is the only person I trust.” Troyard frowned, bit his lower lip and, stuttering, asked: “And l-let’s end this pointless conversation. I still think t-this endeavor is a stupid idea, and I will leave your house f-five minutes after I get there.”

Inaho kept silent until the car turned onto the country road. Soon Troyard was already parking the pickup near the cottage. Inaho got out and belatedly realized that they hadn’t stopped by the drugstore: he didn’t have any lubrication or condoms at home. However, Troyard’s actions stopped him from voicing the apology: the soon-to-be sex partner blushed again and pulled out of the depths of the glove box all the requisites. He put them in his jacket pockets so quickly as if was afraid of someone watching him. It looked amusing because the nearest neighbor’s home was stationed more than two kilometers away.

Troyard closed the car door and the light inside the interior went out. The darkness made the solar-powered garden lights, installed along the paths around the house, more visible: despite the gloomy weather during the day, the stored charge was enough for lighting to keep on until the middle of the night. Inaho searched for the keys in his pocket and climbed the stone steps. Troyard hovered behind him, awkwardly shifting from foot to foot while he was opening the door. The motion sensors in the entryway worked as soon as they stepped inside: scarlet lights, arranged along the lines of the ceiling and walls, shooed away the lurking darkness. Inaho carefully hung his coat on a coat rack, turned to Troyard, and they both froze, wondering what to do next.

“Okay.” Troyard breathed, stepping back. “It was stupid. I’ll just go.”

Inaho barely had the time to catch him by his jacket’s sleeve. He gently pulled the unresisting body closer - turned out that Troyard was taller, but not by much, maybe five centimeters or so. Warm uneven breathing caressed his cheek. Inaho lowered his hands on the flat chest and slid them down, feeling how Troyard’s abdomen immediately tensed under the soft fabric of the shirt. Troyard parted his lips slightly, and his hips unconsciously drew near, allowing Inaho’s hands to stroke the protruding hipbones and his fingers to slip under the leather belt to touch bare skin.

Inaho’s lips brushed Troyard’s face, moved along the jawline and slowly reached his neck, kissed his Adam’s apple and that particular place where the man’s pulse was beating wildly. Troyard compliantly tilted back his head, closed his eyes and held on tight to Inaho’s shoulder. The smell of autumn and whiskey, of Troyard was enchanting. Inaho couldn’t restrain the impulse to run the tip of his tongue around the sensitive spot under the outside of his earlobe, and gently bit the smooth skin there. Troyard gasped so loud that Inaho felt shivers running down his back.

Groping the backside hidden under the tight-fitting pants, Inaho pushed his guest against the wall, slipped his knee between the other’s legs, and then pressed his hips into Troyard’s. The availability of an alive body fueled the want in his blood, stirred a maelstrom of wild desires within the depths of his consciousness. Troyard was responding to his touch so cooperatively, that Inaho had no more doubts about who would take up the role of a woman in bed. He was not against trying something new, but it seemed like Troyard was afraid to scare him away so much that was willing to do literally anything.

Inaho undid the lower buttons of the red shirt and put his hands under its edges to pat the warm back and sides, then returned to the buttocks to knead the seductive forms and to push his groin into Troyard’s hips. Troyard’s head hit the wall, his sunshiny hair rubbed against the barely discernible pattern design of plants. Inaho bent down and grazed Troyard’s collarbone visible in the shirt’s collar with his teeth. Troyard’s knees suddenly gave out but Inaho was fast to support him. Sea-blue eyes opened, disoriented, and looked at the owner of the house. It didn’t escape Inaho’s notice that Troyard was already aroused. He probably hadn’t had sex in a long time.

Inaho eased himself away, realizing they were still standing in the entryway, footgear still on. He finally shut the front door, took off his shoes and helped Troyard to take off his jacket - it was clear that the man was too busy trying to regain his composure: he was leaning on the wall and gasping for air. Inaho fished a large pack of condoms and a tube of lubricant from the pockets - at the sight of it Troyard hurried to conceal his face and hunched to remove his shoes. Inaho went across the living room, turned on the nightlight and left the necessary items on the bed.

He had to go back, because Troyard cupped his hands together and froze on the spot like a wax statue, not daring to make a move. Inaho took his hand and escorted him into the room as if Troyard was a shy little child. Warm fingers under his hold trembled. When they stopped near the bed, Troyard looked at their reflections, which appeared in the glass wall, and anxiously smoothed his messed hair. Inaho released Troyard’s hand, but hauled him closer by grabbing his belt buckle, and thus successfully turned his attention to himself. 

“Are you afraid of touching me?” Inaho asked quietly, stealing a glance at the tempting lips. “Aren’t you more experienced between the two of us?”

“M-may I?” Only after the verbal confirmation Troyard began awkwardly unbuttoning Inaho’s shirt. The buttons were obeying him very reluctantly: Troyard couldn’t stop his hands from trembling. Inaho patiently watched how shame and desire fought for the domination on his night guest’s face. At last, the white fabric was shoved aside, and Troyard’s palms made contact with Inaho’s body and started to explore his collarbones, chest, ribs and waist, then went back up and lightly rubbed his shoulders. Troyard suddenly clung to Inaho, burrowing his nose in his neck, and clasped his hands behind Inaho’s back. “Please, tell me that you like this. Just, please… I don’t want to go back home.”

In response to the desperate whisper Inaho grabbed Troyard’s wrist and wordlessly moved his hand to his groin so that Troyard could feel how much Inaho approved of what was happening. The arousal had devoured him slowly, with almost zero stimulation, if not taking into account the frottage in the entryway. Inaho didn’t fully understand what affected him that much: was it a male body under his hands? Or the genuine way Troyard responded to his simple touch? Or maybe it was the prolonged absence of physical contact? One way or another, Inaho couldn’t deny the obvious: he liked to listen to the quiet gasps, liked being the cause of these gasps, and liked the obscured way in which Troyard was pleading him to continue.

Troyard drew breath in sharply, and Inaho was overwhelmed by a wave of desire, but not because Troyard palmed him through the clothes, but because of how provoking his low moan sounded. The belt buckle clinked, and Inaho felt fingers gently reaching under the layers of his pants and underwear, touching his cock. Inaho allowed Troyard to carefully explore its length and to fondle with his balls. As if under a spell, Troyard slowly nuzzled Inaho’s neck while his hand was further acquainting itself with Inaho’s cock, which was pressed to his body. When Troyard’s thumb teased the sensitive head, Inaho reluctantly retreated and heard a displeased grunt. Troyard looked at him with a confused look.

“Strip.” The word sounded more like an order, but Inaho assumed that the moment when Troyard could wish to stop their actions had already passed. Troyard obediently unbuttoned his shirt, unzipped the leather pants and took them off along with his underwear, dropping everything on the floor.

“The shirt... stays, okay?” He averted his eyes to the right and nervously shrugged his shoulders.

Inaho nodded: to cavil about minor points would be insignificant. Most likely Troyard had a reason to hide his bare back. Respecting your partner’s preferences in bed was one of Inaho’s principles anyway. He reined in the growing curiosity and looked at the male body in front of him: it was surprisingly eye pleasing. Under his intense scrutiny Troyard’s cock twitched, and his cheeks shamefully reddened once again. Troyard embarrassedly touched himself, his toes curled: the floor under his feet was cold. Inaho decided to install the carpet in the room later.

Inaho got rid of his clothes without hurry, took off his wristwatch and left it on the shelf, then put his hand on Troyard’s thigh and yanked him close. Their cocks met, teasing each other. Troyard painfully dug his fingers into his elbow, but it only spurred Inaho more: the heat was taking over his body, forcing him to become more active. Inaho wrapped his hand around Troyard’s hard cock and stroked it several times, appreciating its warmth and firmness. He didn’t feel any disgust. Touching Troyard was like touching himself only with some gratifying bonuses: Troyard was holding onto Inaho, moaning softly and lightly nibbling on his shoulder. His arousal was sincere: Troyard couldn’t hide it even if he wanted to.

Inaho set out to re-examine the enticing backside, this time not hidden by the black leather: he caressed Troyard’s buttocks in a circular motion, slowly increasing the amount of pressure, then suddenly gripped them tightly and pressed his groin into Troyard’s. His partner’s knees gave out, but Inaho had foreseen this and managed to turn them so they both landed on the bed. Inaho settled over Troyard, feeling how a hot body moved and shivered beneath him. Troyard moved one leg over his hip as though he wanted Inaho to become a part of him.

Inaho caught the thin wrists, pinned them to the bed above Troyard’s head and paused, admiring the picture: the blonde hair shined against the white fabric of the blanket, sea-blue eyes failed to focus on Inaho, Troyard’s chest heaved and fell, and his shirt’s edges slipped down a bit, opening a seductive view of his bare shoulders. Troyard was arching his back, trying to rub his cock against Inaho’s groin and pull him closer with his leg while anxiously biting his lips.

In the dim illumination of the nightlight shadows wandered along the curves of the pale body. Obeying their mesmerizing movements, Inaho lowered himself to leave one more kiss on the vulnerable neck, to move his tongue over Troyard’s collarbones and kiss the exposed chest and sexy abdomen. He let go of Troyard’s wrists, but reached towards his knees and searched them for the sensitive spots, leisurely moving his hands up and down the inner thighs: his touch varied between light and feathery and greedy and harsh.

“Nnnnn,” a loud moan escaped Troyard’s lips, he raised himself upon his elbows and eased away from Inaho in search of the forgotten tube. Inaho didn’t object to end the foreplay: he wasn’t sure he’d last long. Troyard’s hands trembled again so much that Inaho had to open the lid for him. Water-based lubricant oozed into Troyard’s palm, a couple of drops landed on the blanket, but Inaho didn’t mind. Troyard bent forward in front of him, knees spread apart, nestled his head into Inaho’s chest and began preparing himself. Inaho watched intently as fingers slid between the provocative buttocks. By now Troyard’s shirt was damp and stuck to his back, but Inaho didn’t use the moment to explore the hidden secrets beneath it. Troyard’s words of distrust still loomed at the edge of his consciousness.

The condom wrapping rustled. Troyard brushed his lips against Inaho’s chest and midriff, pressed his cheek to his cock, gave Inaho a lewd look, his eyelashes fluttering a little, and rolled the condom on Inaho’s cock. Inaho felt as if he was in a daze when Troyard faced away and encouragingly raised his hips. His red shirt slipped up a bit, and there, right under its edges, a swarm of bats suddenly loomed black. Inaho stroked the unusual tattoo with his thumb, pulled Troyard closer and guided his cock inside.

The hot tightness didn’t accept him right away though there was plenty of lubricant. Inaho gritted his teeth, resisting the urge to start frantically thrusting in, and pushed his cock balls deep, slowly winning over the resistance of muscles. Troyard’s elbows buckled and he lay on the bed, breathing heavily and taking hold of the pillow. Inaho was observing Troyard’s face and pose carefully to make sure that there was no hint of pain. Of course, it probably would’ve been hard to stop at this point, but he didn’t see the point of feeling good alone. Two persons were intended for that.

“Wait, wait a bit, nnn,” Troyard suddenly pleaded when Inaho held his hips, wanting to try some moving.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, tracing his fingers along the mysterious bats on Troyard’s lower back in an attempt to distract himself from the persistent desire.

“N-no, just...” Troyard started, when Inaho leaned down and ran a trail of kisses along his vertebrae over the damp fabric. “Just give me a minute.”

Inaho drew in breath and let his hands roam wherever he could reach: Troyard’s hips and backside, his tensed abdomen. He slid his palms under Troyard’s chest and rested his cheek over the clothed shoulder while his fingers teased slightly the hardened nipples. His heart was beating fast; a bead of sweat ran down his temple; his cock was pulsing impatiently, ready to begin the age-old dance of bodies. Finally, Troyard shot a languish look at him over his shoulder, and Inaho straightened his back yielding to his body’s demands.

Troyard was meeting his thrusts; his fingers clung desperately to the bed linen. He was tight, hot and craving, and repeatedly tried to offset the rhythm of Inaho’s thrusts, tried to make him lose himself, to lose control. However, after Inaho intentionally slipped out of his body, he quickly hauled in horns. Inaho teased the entrance with the tip of his cock and was satisfied when his disobedient partner pleadingly grabbed his thigh.

The indecent sounds of skin slapping skin filled the room. Inaho kept advancing onto his now tamed partner, from time to time brushing against the spot inside Troyard which almost made him whimper. Out of the corner of his eye he watched as their reflections copulated in the glass wall. A lithe body, messed up blonde hair, hips moving erratically, his own thrusts getting more and more uncontrolled - there could be only one more shameless image aside from this one - the sight of his cock disappearing inside Troyard.

Inaho felt how his balls tensed: the orgasm was close. He seized Troyard by his hair and pushed him into bed, frantically moving his hips. He never allowed himself to be so rough with Inko, but Troyard’s groans made him go wild. He would certainly apologize later: maybe make breakfast or buy a bottle of good whiskey, but right now - now... Troyard suddenly cried out and clenched around him so tight that Inaho felt himself soaring - all the tension in his body along with the heat broke free, plunging him into an immeasurable bliss. Troyard’s trembling under his hands’ grip was the only thing that didn’t let him get lost amidst the ethereal nothingness.

A pleasurable experience ended with the sounds of heavy breathing. Inaho came to his senses and discovered he was pressing his forehead between Troyard’s shoulder blades. Sea-blue eyes slowly closed, the body beneath Inaho relaxed, and when he finally found enough strength to pull his cock out and to get rid of the condom, Troyard was already asleep. Inaho couldn’t resist the temptation to take a quick shower and fetched a wet towel there. A pleasant lassitude was forcing him to go to rest, but before that he turned Troyard on his back and wiped his chest and thighs.

Inaho turned off the nightlight, pulled out the blanket from under his guest and covered them both. The truth was, after spending a year in a hospital bed, he was unaccustomed to the presence of another person in his bed, that’s why he didn’t fall asleep immediately, despite the fact that Troyard was quiet: he didn’t snore or kick or move around, just sighed once or twice in his sleep and turned to his side. The irrational desire to touch the warm body, fueled by fatigue, had won and Inaho stroked Troyard’s thigh, then stopped at his waist and left the hand lying over the place which was hiding the flying bats.

Inaho felt how the bed dipped for a moment and opened his eyes. It was dawn already: the gray sky brooded above the hilly plain. The rain was beating against the roof, steadily murmuring and drumming on the veranda windows. Sitting on the edge of the bed Troyard stretched out his arms, then moved a pile of clothes on the floor with his foot and lazily put on his underwear and pants. Inaho rolled over onto his side and leaned on his elbow. Catching his glance Troyard abruptly got up, made several unsure steps, and seemingly satisfied buttoned up his wrinkled shirt. Inaho surmised that Troyard wanted to leave while he was sleeping.

“It’s raining out there, how about breakfast?” Inaho didn’t plan to stall Troyard, but he wanted to thank him for the intense night. For trusting Inaho. Especially since Inaho didn’t spend enough time over the foreplay. Even if Troyard had already been desperate when they entered the house, it wasn’t a good excuse. Inaho had too many rough times at work to be rough in bed. It seemed yesterday Troyard was not the only one driven by the carnal hunger, Inaho too, but he controlled it a little better than Troyard.

“No, no need.” Troyard shook his head and disappeared in the entryway, where he pulled on his jacket and shoes judging by the rustling sounds. Inaho lay back down on the pillows; rain was lulling him to sleep. He drew the blanket over his shoulder, but saw Troyard peeking out from the entryway corner. His cheeks were burning. “But thanks for the night.”

The front door slammed, marking the logical conclusion of the previous day. Inaho checked his smartphone and messaged Calm that he got home without any problems: the call history revealed that Calm tried to contact him in the middle of the night, but the sound was muted. Inaho took a deep breath and wrapped the blanket around him. The smell of sex and Troyard filled his nose, but Inaho put off changing the bed linen until later.

Maybe that’s why that day he dreamed of how a swarm of bats invaded his living room and snuggled up to his shoulders.

-3-

_“Well, look who I ran into,” crowed Coincidence._  
_“Please,” flirted Fate, “This was meant to be.”_  
© Joseph Gordon-Levitt

His head was hurting since morning. Pills didn’t help, but Inaho forced himself to get out of bed and get dressed. He had made an arrangement with Yuki yesterday to dine at the café across the clinic and didn’t want to cancel it and disappoint his sister. The cold beginning of October was marked by an epidemic of flu and a common emotional distress. Yuki complained that the clinic was sieged by the townspeople and the queue to her office had grown to gigantic length: half of the town was suddenly in dire need of help of an experienced counsellor. Yuki stayed at the clinic till late at night, listening to the complaints of housewives, and couldn’t find time to meet with Inaho, so he decided that he’d endure the migraine, since lunch wouldn’t last more than an hour, and Calm promised to take him to the town and back.

“Call me when you’re done, mate.” Calm waved his hand; Inaho closed the SUV door and followed the retreating car with his eyes. His eyes burned, fingers of his left hand trembled, and a chill ran down his body. He checked the time on his wristwatch, rolling up the sleeve of his trench coat: it was still forty minutes until the meeting.

Inaho crossed the road, but didn’t enter the café. All of a sudden the image of a bright green sign with a picture of a coffee cup doubled, and he rubbed his face, leaning unto a low street lamp. A child ran past him, his laughter reverberated in his ears along with the clatter of heels clicking against the pavement: a woman rushed to catch her misbehaving offspring. Inaho pressed his fingers against his temples, trying to focus. The gray sky was rapidly devouring the roofs of the houses; trees merged into emerald mire and crawled amidst the roadway; the zebra-stripe crosswalk darted under the manhole cover.

“Kaizuka?” Inaho wanted to turn to the sound of a familiar voice, but didn’t remember what happened next: the world around drowned in darkness.

He regained consciousness lying in an unknown bed, moved his hand over his chest and realized he was dressed in nothing but his underwear. Behind the closed curtains, which were hiding a small window, the night had already descended. A dim lamp stood at the edge of the bureau, illuminating the narrow room; Inaho’s smartphone was placed there too: the memory of how he put it inside his coat pocket before leaving home emerged from the tangle of incoherent thoughts. There was a writing desk behind the bureau, amidst which lay a pile of books in colorful covers and an opened laptop. The sound of a working cooler was clearly audible in the silence.

Inaho tried to reach for his phone to call Yuki, but his hand fell back on the bed in an instant. A terrible weakness consumed his body, echoes of pain flickered inside his head. Even if he didn’t feel all the discomfort, the memory lapse clearly told him that he had suffered an epileptic seizure. He should have rescheduled the meeting and stayed in bed, but he greatly underestimated his physical condition: became too relaxed after moving and relied too much on pills, postponing his visit to the clinic to register with a local doctor.

Inaho tried to settle his mind and figure out where he was. He had visited his sister’s house only a few times, but the room he was in right now didn’t look like Yuki’s spare room: it had too little space. Yuki had long ago put down roots in town, and her house was set up with maximum comfort, also it was conquered by mess: Yuki confessed she was doing cleaning only once a year or so. The room where Inaho woke up was spit and polish. He didn’t notice any dust on the floor, the bed sheets were fresh and smelled a little of a washing powder, the stack of clothes he could see inside the opened wardrobe was carefully ironed.

The door suddenly burst open, letting inside the owner of the room. Inaho recognized Troyard immediately, although the man had his back to him and was holding a huge pile of clothes, among which Inaho noticed his own jeans and shirt. The lock on the door clicked, Troyard put the clothes in the wardrobe and took off his faded t-shirt, pulling it up over his head. Inaho wanted to draw his attention, but the words stuck in his throat: long horrid lines of scars littered Troyard’s back, leaving almost no place intact. The scars were old but apparently an accident was out of question: the nature of the wounding hinted at human cruelty.

After putting on a zip velour jacket Troyard turned to look at Inaho and froze discovering that he wasn’t asleep. Frustration was evident on his face, and fingers, holding the zipper, balled into fist, crushing the fabric. Troyard forced himself to make a deep breath right away, pulled a stool from under the desk and sat down near the bed. His thin fingers moved the hair out of his face, and his shoulders slumped - Troyard looked tired.

“How are you feeling?” 

“As per normal after a seizure.” Inaho answered. The hope that under the influence of the pills seizures would not occur had gone away, replaced by the sober assessment. Inaho had always kept strict control over his body and honed his reflexes: at his job a fast footwork, an ability to prioritize and the reaction time were highly valued. During his time at hospital Inaho was watched by the doctors and nurses, and seizures seemed like a necessary evil, accompanying his recovery. But here, in the town, Inaho was on his own, so probably the time to admit that he would never regain the previous control of his body had come.

“So it’s not a one-off thing?” Troyard frowned, cupped his hands and began nervously moving his fingers. “To be honest, you scared me. To see a person who you slept with convulsing violently down on the ground... I was lucky a doctor was passing by. When the seizure ended, and you fell asleep, he told me what to do and what to expect, and talked me out of panicking and carrying you to the clinic, although it was across the street. He also helped to bring you here - fortunately, I live not that far away.”

“Thank you.” Inaho once again glanced at his smartphone. Troyard was quick to catch and leaned forward, relocating the phone on the bed, leaving it near the pillow, where Inaho could easily reach it.

“Miss Yuki called,” he added. “I told her I met you outside, and you felt sick, so I took you home. She asked to call her as soon as you wake up.”

Inaho nodded, searching for his sister in the contact list. He was grateful to Troyard for keeping the incident a secret. He didn’t want to worry Yuki, although it would’ve been wiser to ask for some help. But Inaho had already taken a lot of her personal time when he was planning his moving. Yuki picked up the phone at once: no doubt was waiting for his call. Inaho assured her that he was feeling fine, apologized for the cancelled meeting and skillfully avoided the question of when exactly he got to know Slaine Troyard.

“He is a good guy, Inaho,” Yuki thoughtfully said. Inaho was glad that Troyard had moved away at this point to the other end of the room, was sorting out the clothes in the wardrobe and couldn’t hear the conversation. “He didn’t have a nice life too. I think you really could become good friends, it’s just... well, okay, it’s not my business. Rest, please, I’ll see you at the weekend.”

Any doubt Inaho had about Troyard seeing Yuki for psychological help now vanished without a trace. Then again, the man, whose back was covered with such terrible scars, could never escape mental wounds. Inaho put his phone at the edge of the bed, but the treacherous device slid down the bedsheet and collapsed on the floor. Inaho turned on his side to reach for it, but Troyard was faster: leaving Inaho’s phone on his desk, he pulled the blanket over Inaho’s shoulders.

“You should sleep, Kaizuka. I’ll take you home in the morning. If you want to drink or need something, tell me.”

Inaho shook his head and closed his eyes, succumbing to the persistent weakness. He rarely had dreams, but unexpectedly found himself sitting on the porch of an unfamiliar cottage, holding a fragile female body, dressed in a white dress, in his embrace. Birds were chirping around, Asseylum was smiling, looking at the fluffy clouds, and Inaho was running his fingers through her long hair. Something made noise behind his back. Inaho turned to see how a bat was desperately crashing against the inner walls of the cottage, unable to find a way out of the house as if it had lost the ability to echolocation. Asseylum was finally in Inaho’s arms, but yet he could not focus on her and continued to glance back, until the bat suddenly bumped into his shoulder. 

“Did I wake you up? Sorry,” Troyard whispered in the dark, arranging himself on the bed next to Inaho. “Actually I rent a room in someone else’s house, so I have only one bed. Move over a bit.”

They fidgeted on the bed, trying to find a comfortable position, but the bed was too narrow for both of them to stretch comfortably. In the end Inaho rested his hand over the tense shoulders and buried his nose into Troyard’s hair - they smelled of shampoo. After a couple of minutes Troyard relaxed and stopped moving his hips, hidden under a loose-fitting t-shirt, away from him. Troyard’s behavior was amusing: Inaho saw no reason for embarrassment because they had already had sex, even if they didn’t plan to do it again. Inaho didn’t remember how he fell asleep, but there were no more dreams.

The next morning he opened his eyes first. During the night Troyard moved so that he now lay on Inaho’s chest with his knee over Inaho’s legs. Inaho felt much better than yesterday, but reminded himself to take the pills first thing upon returning home. A car speeded outside past the window, and the glass rattled from the loud sound. Troyard’s hand caressed Inaho’s chest, he stirred, sleepily rubbing his cheek against Inaho. Inaho stopped his hand halfway to his groin - Troyard opened his eyes, blushed and hastily fled from under the blanket, disappearing behind the door.

A bit later Troyard drove him home as he had promised but before that he had made Inaho some tea and gave him back his washed clothes. Inaho didn’t put on his trench coat: it got very dirty while he was writhing on the ground from seizure. But in any case it was very warm inside the pickup. Inaho suspected that Troyard specially warmed up the car while Inaho was drinking tea alone. When they arrived at the cottage, before getting out of the car Inaho placed his coat over his elbow and caught Troyard’s eye.

“Do you want to come in? I’ll make breakfast as a thank you.”

“Coincidences...” Troyard was stubbornly staring at the endless line of the road, ignoring Inaho. “...should remain coincidences, Kaizuka.”

The pickup’s engine roared furiously, carrying the car away.

-4-

_“I am not a stalker. I am just an unpaid private investigator.”_ ©

Inaho was absolutely not worried about minor everyday troubles, be it a broken cup or a meeting with a rude neighbor. He always had a clear plan of action in store for every accident, which helped to deal with the problem quickly and effectively instead of wasting precious time. However, he had never expected to find himself in the aforementioned role of a “minor everyday trouble” one fine November day. Logic told him not to react in any way and to go on about his business, but Troyard was too fiercely glaring at him above the shopping shelf full of bright oranges.

Inaho was forced to acknowledge his presence, especially after Troyard grabbed his cart and prevented him to head for the free cashier. A spacious supermarket hall surrounded them from all sides; a few customers slowly walked between the endless rows of shelves crammed with food and goods: there weren’t many people who dared to leave the workplace in the middle of a weekday. Troyard had a large container of donuts in his other hand and looked very unkempt. Dirty coveralls were hiding under the unzipped gray jacket: apparently, Troyard had swung by the shop during his break.

“This is the third time today, Kaizuka!” he hissed while Inaho’s eyes roamed his disheveled hair. Right now Troyard looked like a hedgehog that had sensed danger and put up its quills for protection.

“It’s just a coincidence,” Inaho assured him. It wasn’t strange that they had encountered each other in the morning while visiting the clinic. Troyard had just come out of Yuki’s office and Inaho was heading to the consulting room; he had registered with the doctor soon after his last seizure. Troyard nodded to him in irritation and rushed to flee to the reception desk. Later, after talking with the neurologist, Inaho decided to venture into the town as Calm would be free to take him home only after three o’clock - and this time he met Troyard in the middle of the street. He was helping a car owner change a tire, but after seeing Inaho dropped his wheel wrench on his foot.

“Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is enemy action, Kaizuka!” Troyard, burning with righteous indignation, narrowed his eyes, but Inaho simply handed him an orange after tossing it into the air.

“Calm down, Bat, you’re too tense. I’m just acquiring some groceries.”

“B-bat?” Mentioning Troyard’s tattoo worked without a major hitch. In the blink of an eye Troyard blushed to the roots of his hair, brushed Inaho’s shoulder on purpose and, ignoring the offered orange, escaped from the supermarket, almost forgetting to pay for his donuts at the cash register. Inaho felt how the corners of his mouth moved up, forming a smile, but didn’t follow Troyard: the realization that in recent years he had smiled only in Yuki’s company had come to him so suddenly that he had to linger while his eyes absently examined the orange fruit in his palm. Inko often complained that Inaho was apathetic in everything that wasn’t connected with his work, but he didn’t understand the nature of her discontent back then.

Memories of Asseylum were still frequent despite the past year and a half. Back then, before moving, he decided to take neither photos of her, nor her letters which once made him so content. It wasn’t an easy decision, but he held to it. Naive words and false promises had been giving him a ghostly hope, and he had lived too long on it. Despite knowing the future outcome he kept waiting near the closed doors, like a dog that would sometimes get a few scraps. But he had saved Asseylum so many times from death. Why could she never find the courage to free him from the deadly mire of illusions? Why didn’t she - even after the engagement? How much more time would he have devoted to her if the sniper hadn’t turned out to be a little faster than him? Would he have died for her? Would he leave Yuki to cry alone at his grave? 

No, it was finally time to accept the truth of Inko’s complains. Asseylum brought Inaho nothing but troubles. And maybe he realized it now, in the course of a very usual November day, when Troyard’s behavior made him smile. Inaho pushed the cart toward the cashier, feeling as his phone started to vibrate inside his pocket. Calm was probably already waiting for him at the parking lot.

The days went on with insane speed. Inaho wasn’t in acute need of money, but at the end of November he started searching for a job because he didn’t want to spend his days meaninglessly. However, there weren’t many vacancies: in a small town people desperately held down their jobs in fear of losing opportunity to earn money. The post of a security guard in a warehouse didn’t interest him as it would interfere with his regimen, and causing more harm to his health was unreasonable. Yuki found Inaho a place in a local company as an office worker, but Inaho came to the conclusion that sitting in a stuffy office and staring at a monitor for eight to ten hours was absolutely unjustified. He could easily do the same thing at home, doing translations and other freelance work through the Internet.

The beginning of December gave birth to the first snow which generously covered the town. The rooftops shined under the sun, kids rushed to make snowmen; the serene view of the valley was making Inaho sleepy. Inaho spent more and more time in the town, settling down with a laptop in a cozy café. He found the café by chance, while looking for a drugstore to purchase the necessary pills. The comfortable sofas had cushions and were placed along the walls: Inaho got into a habit of sitting down by the window and ordering breakfast. Eggs here were cooked perfectly, the chief always used different recipes and spices, among which Inaho identified pepper, garlic, oregano, balm, and even onions, spinach and avocado. Inaho though, if he had a chance, would dare to add a touch of nutmeg, ginger, cardamom or cinnamon.

He was reading news and slowly drank his tea, pondering over Yuki’s present for Christmas. The holidays were steadily approaching, artificial trees filled the streets, shop windows sparkled with colorful garlands and balloons. Unfortunately, Yuki was going to leave for the holidays: last year she had promised to visit a friend, and it was rude now to go back on her promise, that’s why Inaho had accepted Calm’s invitation to the party. He wasn’t going to sit alone in the cottage and reminisce about the Christmas before the last, when he was freezing out on the street, while Asseylum dined in the company of her grandfather and fiancé.

“Are you kidding me?” Troyard said pulling a chair toward Inaho’s table. “I’ve been missing breakfast for ten days, Kaizuka! Just because I come here and see your arrogant face in the window!”

“I’m not stalking you, Troyard.”

“Of course you’re not stalking me!” Troyard snapped, unbuttoning his winter coat and removing the red scarf. It was warm inside the café, but the color in Troyard’s cheeks had yet to fade. “It’s just that every day I meet you out in the street, in the clinic, walking past my work… and now you are determined to steal my favorite place!”

“It’s an adequate establishment,” Inaho agreed, ignoring Troyard’s anger, and went back to reading the news. For some time Troyard breathed furiously in front of him, but then made a little demonstration by loudly ordering food and clanking his fork against the plate in a vain attempt to make Inaho lose his temper. A bit later Inaho felt how Troyard moved his dirty boots on top of Inaho’s winter footwear. A vindictive smirk lightened Troyard’s lips, but Inaho merely freed one foot and gently rubbed it against Troyard’s leg as if their unseen battle under the table was routine. Troyard hastily pushed his chair back, took his plate, moved to the other end of the area and started up a conversation with an elderly man in glasses, who sat there holding the newspaper. Troyard didn’t turn to look at Inaho anymore.

Of course, Troyard’s accusations of Inaho stalking him were baseless, however, as the days went by, Inaho too began to notice that the number of their encounters increased. Most likely, the reason for that was the small size of the town. Inaho already knew many people by sight and had no doubts that in a year or two would learn their names. Be it as it may, he bumped into Troyard almost everywhere: they ran into each other while crossing the road and shopping, and sometimes even during driving. For example, yesterday, when Calm had stopped the SUV at a traffic light, a nearby car suddenly turned out to be Troyard’s pickup. Inaho raised his hand in greeting, and Troyard angrily punched the side window and then pressed his forehead for a second to the steering wheel. When he straightened back Inaho gestured him to buckle the seat belt, but didn’t see Troyard’s reaction - the traffic light turned green, and Calm guided the car forward.

Inaho saw Yuki off and helped Calm to prepare for the holidays. Christmas had snuck up too fast. Calm had rented a roomy cottage so that he could gather all his crowd of friends at Christmas night. They bought snacks and drinks, pushed back the furniture standing in the way, lay a few fluffy carpets and set the music equipment. Calm had encouraged Inaho to try out the karaoke, but Inaho refused and walked around the cottage, checking out of habit how securely the windows were locked. The parking place near the cottage soon became crowded with a good amount of cars. Inaho found Troyard’s pickup among them and smiled. The night promised to be more interesting than he had anticipated.

Troyard was dressed in jeans and a fitting red turtleneck jumper. Calm shook his hand, and Troyard nodded in a friendly way. Inaho was watching them, standing in the shadows of the stairs which led to the second floor. Although Inaho was sure that Calm preferred girls, for a moment he felt an irrational desire to go down and slide his hand around Troyard’s slender hips to pull him close. Perhaps Inaho’s body hunger was awakening again: enough time had passed since September.

Troyard didn’t notice Inaho right off the bat, but, probably, was expecting his appearance, because he glanced only once at Inaho’s outfit and quickly looked away. Inaho just in case examined if his orange racerback tank top didn’t get dirty while he moved all the snacks and drinks, but everything was in order. A month ago he had finally purchased the new stack of clothes. Right now Inaho was wearing comfortable jeans and a casual blazer with short sleeves. Despite the holiday Inaho chose to dress in black: according to Yuki, the color looked nice combined with the orange.

By nightfall the party was well under way. Half-drunk girls weren’t ashamed to bother Inaho, but this time Calm couldn’t become his shield: the poor guy was so drunk that he was now lying across the sofa and sleeping like a baby. Inaho didn’t touch the alcohol: it could easily provoke another seizure. Troyard actively participated in the ongoing festivities, even won the karaoke contest, but seemed strange: clenched his fists when he thought no one was looking at him, rubbed his cheeks in anger and drank only one glass of champagne.

The time was nearing dawn, and some people had already followed Calm’s example, napping on top of the fluffy carpets. There were people who were still dancing and finishing the last bottles of Martini and people who had disappeared inside the upper bedrooms of the cottage. Troyard tried to get into the hallway unnoticed, and Inaho quickly escaped the embrace of a clingy girl, although she was clearly not averse to continue their acquaintance. Troyard was putting on his boots, sitting on a shoe storage cabinet, and cast a puzzled glance at him when Inaho did the same.

It was not light yet outside; snowflakes were lazily falling from the dark sky. Cold wind immediately found a way under Inaho’s winter jacket, but Inaho determinedly followed Troyard to his pickup. The road to the cottage was illuminated only by a thin ray of light that came from the cottage window. Troyard turned off the alarm and unlocked the car, and Inaho wordlessly opened the door on the passenger side.

“Kaizuka!” Troyard grated his teeth, but Inaho had already climbed inside.

“Drive me home.” Inaho was not going to be involved in cleaning the chaos that guests would see after getting up.

While the pickup moved along an empty highway, Inaho shamelessly stared at Troyard: at his thin fingers wrapped around the steering wheel, at the tips of his hair, touching his cheek, at sea-blue eyes, carefully watching the road. Inaho was experiencing an unfamiliar thirst. Troyard didn’t resemble Asseylum, and wasn’t as unreachable as she had been. Yet Inaho couldn’t say he was as compliant as Inko. Troyard lay down his own terms, drew the lines, wasn’t afraid to indulge his desires and was quick to keep Inaho at bay, if there was something he didn’t like. Nevertheless he still helped Inaho when Inaho needed it, didn’t shift the responsibility onto someone else. There was no naiveté in Troyard, not a bit of childishness. He was a man of sober judgment who understood his own weaknesses. He seemed to move with Inaho in the same plane, considered Inaho an equal, and wasn’t afraid of challenging him and of expressing his demands. He fired Inaho up, and Inaho had never felt like this.

The pickup headlamps exposed the familiar parking area to light. The cottage was barely visible against the night sky. Troyard turned off the engine, but Inaho was in no hurry to get out of the car. He could clearly hear Troyard’s heavy breathing in the silence. The interior lights died out and Troyard blew out a breath. The seat belt loudly clicked, letting the driver free.

“Fuck it!” Troyard whispered and moved himself onto Inaho’s lap, pushing Inaho into the seat. Inaho only had time to let his hands wander under the soft fabric of the red jumper and slide them up Troyard’s back, gladly studying the domain of the mysterious scars. Troyard halted for a second, goosebumps ran down the warm skin and then - Troyard covered his mouth with his lips. Inaho didn’t remember when the last time he kissed was, but the process had always seemed to him unnecessary and meaningless. Up to this day.

Troyard’s lips were warm and alive, daring and relentless. His hands forcefully held Inaho’s head back, pressing it into the seat. Troyard kissed him as if he wanted to suck out his soul. Inaho had to fight for every lip movement, for every breath, had to extract revenge for every bite. His head was pleasantly spinning, blond hair tickled his forehead and cheekbones, Troyard clung to him, leading in a strange unfamiliar game, and they both couldn’t get enough of it. Inaho didn’t even realize when Troyard pulled away - it was the first time Inaho didn’t notice that he closed his eyes while the kiss lasted.

“Come in?” Inaho’s voice was hoarse.

Troyard brushed his lips against his chin, and they awkwardly got out of the car. Inaho inserted the keys in the keyhole only on the third attempt: a short walk to the front door hadn’t cooled him down. What happened next, Inaho remembered very vaguely: together with Troyard they moved around the entryway and the living room, dropping clothes on the floor, kissing and touching each other and stumbling over furniture. Inaho snatched a condom from the wardrobe, pushed Troyard to the veranda, and Troyard obediently raised his hips, bending over the sofa’s armrest. Inaho caressed the bats on Troyard’s lower back and slipped inside the blissful hotness.

Later, they had fallen asleep on the same sofa. Inaho brought a warm blanket, and Troyard cuddled up with Inaho for the rest of the night, breathing into his ear. He also stayed for showering in the morning and agreed to wait for breakfast. Sunrays were sieging the kitchen table, the cold wind kept attacking the window, and Troyard was eating Inaho’s scrambled eggs with pleased murmurs. Inaho touched the spot on his shoulder where Troyard had left a hickey and enjoyed the sudden peace.

-5-

_“To appreciate heaven well, it’s good for a person to have some fifteen minutes of hell.”_  
© Will Carleton

When spring came Inaho was already accustomed to hearing the loud knocking at the front door. Sometimes Troyard would bring cakes for dinner, and Inaho would go to the kitchen to turn the kettle on, and sometimes Troyard would simply push him against the wall and cover his lips with a demanding a kiss, and they would unsuccessfully try to reach the bed before succumbing to passion. In the middle of April Inaho, whilst doing the spring cleaning, suddenly realized that, wherever place his gaze dropped to, the memories of hot sex would immediately pop into his mind. They did it on the floor, against the walls, on the kitchen table and even on the veranda, leaning into the panoramic window: Inaho was glad it was covered with a special layer of glossy reflection - no one could’ve seen them. Not that anyone cultivated a habit of disturbing Inaho’s privacy.

Once Yuki stopped by to see Inaho without warning and met Troyard on the doorstep. Troyard blushed, then paled, mumbled something incoherent and fled, literally jumping inside the pickup. After Inaho poured Yuki some tea, she silently took it and played with the teaspoon for half of an hour. Inaho wasn’t going to start the conversation first: if Yuki began to suspect something, she could always ask him a direct question. On top of that, Inaho wasn’t sure what exactly he could say: sex was definitely good, but there was no talk about anything else.

However, if Yuki would’ve asked Inaho to describe his relationship with Troyard in one word, the first thing that came to mind was, oddly enough, not sex. It was comfort. Inaho felt very comfortable in Troyard’s company: they could remain silent all night, could talk over tea on abstract subjects, could lazily argue about which donuts had a better taste: with chocolate or strawberry dusting, and then slowly advance to bed. Troyard always noticed if Inaho was feeling shaky and would send him to lie down while he’d shoulder a cooking duty. There was no tension between them, not since the winter holidays. They also didn’t have any disagreements in sex: Troyard wordlessly yielded the leading role, although usually he was the first to initiate the intimacy.

The rainy season started in May, and green hills were curtained by the grey mirk of rain. Inaho closed his laptop when he heard the familiar sound of the engine, coming from the parking area. There was still much time before sunset; the clock pointed towards the middle of the day. On Fridays Troyard usually arrived later, but perhaps there was no work in the car repair shop and he had left early. Inaho opened the front door and went into the kitchen to make some tea. He washed out the cups and left it on the table, but upon returning to the living room discovered that Troyard was still not in the house.

The rain steadily assaulted the roof and balcony. Inaho pulled on his shoes, picked up an umbrella and went outside. Troyard was standing near the pickup, leaning his forehead against the door and resting his hands on the car roof; his t-shirt and jeans were drenched, but he was in no hurry to move. Inaho went down the steps and walked forward along the curling pathway.

“I shouldn’t be here,” Troyard said when Inaho came closer. He gently touched Troyard’s elbow and led the guest to the house as his actions met no resistance.

Inaho forced Troyard to take a shower and then found some spare clothes for him in the wardrobe: an orange racerback tank top he wore at Christmas night and loose linen pants. Troyard’s distrait look wandered around the room, his shoulders were slumped and he hadn’t even snorted when Inaho gave him the clothes: usually Troyard laughed at Inaho’s choice of garments. Inaho dragged Troyard to the bed, wrapped him in the blanket, put a cup of hot mint tea on the coffee table, which he recently purchased, and finally received a quiet chuckle. Troyard buried his nose in the pillow with a heavy sigh.

Inaho settled with the laptop on the veranda, but the noise of the rain and Troyard’s presence distracted him from work. He kept turning around to look at the napping visitor to make sure he didn’t have any nightmares. Inaho was used to Troyard always being full of energy and fiery emotions. But it seemed as if today his inner fire was extinguished, and Inaho would be lying if he said that he didn’t want to know the reason. He rubbed his face, put down the laptop and quietly moved back to the living room.

“Mmm?” Troyard sleepily stirred when Inaho maneuvered under the blanket and embraced him with one hand. Troyard was very warm and Inaho closed his eyes, content. Spring was blooming behind the cottage walls, yet the heavy rains birthed chillness. Any kind of cold made Inaho wish to never crawl out of bed, which was why the presence of a living heater was a big plus. “Kaizuka, your feet are cold.”

“They’ll get warm soon,” Inaho assured him, pressing his feet to Troyard’s legs. Troyard muttered something in irritation, but quickly calmed down. Echoes of the rain drowned the room. Inaho almost fell asleep when he felt how Troyard touched his open palm and began caressing it with his fingertips until he entwined their hands. Inaho didn’t give himself away, but the simple caress sent a shiver through his body.

“You are not sleeping, Kaizuka. What, spying on me even in bed?” Despite the playful wording, there was no humor in Troyard’s tone. But Inaho was more worried that Troyard didn’t release his hand as if he desperately needed proof that Inaho was close.

“Did something happen?” Inaho wasn’t going to press for an answer, but he wanted to help if it was in his power.

“No… Well, yes, but it’s really not a big deal...” Troyard crumpled the edge of the blanket and tried to pull it over his head, but Inaho didn’t allow him to hide: nuzzled Troyard’s cheek and tried to catch the sea-blue eyes. Troyard indignantly growled, jerking his shoulder. “What infuriates me more, Kaizuka, is that I _want_ to tell you.”

“Then do.”

Troyard chewed on his lower lip, thinking, while Inaho soothingly played with his slightly wet after a shower hair and left kisses on the tempting neck. However, he stopped when Troyard hid his face in his palm and muttered through clenched teeth:

“Someone grabbed my ass today.”

Inaho blinked, totally failing to understand how such an incident could affect Troyard. If there was one thing Inaho was sure of it was Troyard being able to stand up for himself.

“Did you let...?” The desire to hold Troyard’s backside increased tenfold.

“Of course not, Kaizuka! What do you take me for?” Troyard hissed, angrily giving Inaho’s ribs a dig with his elbow. “The bastard’s jaw must be pretty colorful right now, and I don’t even care what his wife is going to say. It’s… it’s something else.”

“Explain.”

“I’m not sure I want to cross that line, Kaizuka.” Troyard’s grip on Inaho’s fingers unconsciously tightened, his nails left the red marks. “And I’m not sure you want to hear this, even though you’ve already seen... the scars.”

Silence again cut in the conversation. Inaho used the pause to think carefully about his next words. It was easy to admit that he was feeling so comfortable in Troyard’s company that was ready to take their relationship to the next step. But would this “comfortable feeling” be enough to give birth to something long-term and stable? He couldn’t know. He failed with Inko, but Inko had never been a treasure-trove of emotions that Inaho wanted to solve and tame and calm or, contrariwise, to set them afire and then get burnt in its flames.

“What if I tell you that I want to?” Inaho preferred to avoid dangers, but not when something important was at stake.

“Then you’re an idiot. To get involved with someone like me!” Troyard replied, scowling. Yet he didn’t escape Inaho’s arms, but turned and rested his head on his shoulder, becoming silent. Blonde hair deviously tickled Inaho’s chin. Inaho ran his hand over the relaxed shoulders, brushing the scars, peeking from under the garment.

Troyard didn’t say anything for a long time. Minutes dissolved into nothingness, Inaho thought he could almost hear the frantic ticking of his wristwatch, which he had left on the coffee table yesterday evening. The screen of his phone suddenly lighted up: Yuki sent him a photo of a dirty kitten. She found the kitten a few days ago on the street and decided to take it in after making Inaho promise that he would look after it if she’d leave for a long trip.

“While my father was alive, I felt just the same as this baby - unwanted, miserable. Mother left us, I don’t even remember her face.” Troyard smiled wearily and ran his finger across the display, over the little red face with whiskers. “My father drank himself to death, and I was taken in by a foster parent. He was a very strict and religious man, but his house was always warm, and I was dressed and well-fed, although the responsibilities I had could sometimes become tiresome: I had to do a lot of cleaning and laundry, studied the Bible and different prayers. It was fine… most likely, I would’ve finished school and left the house, but... at thirteen I suddenly realized how... disgusting I was.”

Troyard embraced Inaho’s side tighter as though looking for reassurance. Apparently, the memories didn’t bring him joy. Inaho grabbed the back of his knee and moved it closer, putting Troyard’s leg over his thigh. He regretted they were both wearing pants: lying naked next to each other would have been much nicer.

“I couldn’t hide it, I tried, but... the boys at school brought a magazine to laugh at the “queers”, and I was stupid enough to take it from the waste-basket. Curiosity got the better of me and... I hid it at home. I thought my foster father wouldn’t find it, but he did. And then everything went hellish: the punishments and beatings began. He kept me in the basement for the whole summer, trying to “re-educate”. I’ve been living like that until I turned sixteen: no one suspected anything, that city was much larger than this town. Then one day the man used the whip and… I almost died. I got lucky that he repented in time, called an ambulance and didn’t resist the police... Well, the scars stayed anyway.”

Inaho smoothed back Troyard’s hair from his face and turned a little to press his lips to Troyard’s forehead in silent support.

“When I was discharged from the hospital, I had nowhere to go, but I was still a minor, so the folks up top found me a nice guardian. He brought me to this town, rented a room for me, hired a psychologist and promised to take me into his car repair shop as soon as I finish school. But I stopped trusting people and shied away from everyone as if I was some freak. I don’t even remember how I took my exams, my hands shook so much that the pen was tearing the paper.” Troyard smiled bitterly, getting lost in his memories. “The psychologist didn’t help me. Perhaps, I wasn’t ready to talk yet or maybe he lacked the experience… or maybe I was scared too much of the cross he always wore around his neck. I could barely go on when Miss Yuki moved to the town. If it wasn’t for her, Kaizuka, I would’ve hung myself. Your sister is a wonderful person.”

Inaho nodded. Unlike him Yuki always knew how to get along with people.

“I don’t know how she did it, but I learned to trust her, to confide in her. We talked a lot, and that really helped. Then...” Troyard thoughtfully traced Inaho’s collarbone with his finger. “A man came to the town, by that time I was already working. And despite that he was in his thirties... well, it so happened that we got together. He didn’t promise me anything, but was patient enough to teach me things and let me feel that I wasn’t some freak of nature. He left when he realized that I was becoming attached. I knew that he was going to do so, he didn’t love me - the person he was in love with had died long ago - but I still wasn’t ready for that. I haven’t been looking for a relationship since then and didn’t like being around people. I should probably say thanks to Calm though: if not for his patience I would’ve had no friends now. Anyway… the town is so small that visitors hardly ever come here, and there are no people who share my preferences. The only exception is that married bastard, you saw him back then at the pub. I thought I’d throw up today: he was waiting for me outside when I finished work. I don’t like being touched in any way without permission, and what he did…”

Inaho remembered the night he met Troyard: the unusual but cozy pub, the loud country music, the clinking of glasses, the stamping of the guests’ feet. The man was sitting in the dark corner and smoking, but his filmy eyes watchfully followed Troyard’s every movement. He was taller than Inaho, but apart from his unpleasant look and the bowl haircut Inaho didn’t find anything remarkable in him. There were no open threats in his posture at that time.

“If he is bothering you, you should contact the police.”

Troyard, annoyed, punched Inaho’s shoulder, freed himself from his embrace and went barefoot towards the wardrobe, where Inaho had left Troyard’s clothes to dry. He emptied the jeans pockets, muttering under his breath:

“I can’t believe it! Here am I laying my heart bare, and the only thing he says is about that bastard! Kaizuka, you’re unbelievable... Damn it, where is it? Did you pull out my phone? I’m waiting for a call after eight to confirm the order for the spare parts.”

“No, the pockets were empty.”

“Did I leave it in the car? I’ll be right back.” Frowning, Troyard headed to the entryway, and Inaho heard the shoes being shuffled. He reluctantly got out of bed. It wasn’t dark yet behind the window, but rainy weather was creating the illusion of night and making him sleepy. Inaho went into the kitchen, pondering on whether to cook something fresh for dinner or just heat up the chicken with vegetables which was left from yesterday. The fridge was almost empty, so the shopping trip sounded good. Troyard could easily drive him there and back: he was always free on Saturdays.

The electric kettle clicked, earnestly proclaiming the end of its mission. Inaho checked the brew, poured its remnants into the sink and opened the cupboard in search of tea. For a moment he paused, thinking he heard a sharp cry outside, but there were only sounds of rain. Inaho warily looked in the direction of the front door: enough time had passed since Troyard went out, he should’ve been back by now. Inaho’s instincts were alarmed in a second, and his drowsiness was gone. His hand reached under his left shoulder where Inaho had kept his gun holster - a reflex from his old job -but fingers predictably touched air.

Inaho quietly returned to the living room and looked out of the panoramic window, but the rain was still hiding the sight of the parking area. He couldn’t see what was happening near the blurred gray spot that was Troyard’s pickup. A view from the balcony would’ve been clearer, but up there Inaho would be open for an attack - especially if the criminal had a firearm. Inaho slipped into the entryway and made sure that nobody was standing behind the front door, then put on his boots, tucked his trousers and fastened tightly the shoe-laces: the bad weather dictated him to wear the footgear with more steady soles.

Inaho noticed that the umbrella wasn’t at its place, Troyard must have taken it. He didn’t plan to use it anyway: the bright orange color would stand out too much against the greenery of the hill. Inaho decided against putting on his jacket too: in case of danger it would only hamper his movements. He still hoped that Troyard was just sitting in his car and talking on the phone, but he couldn’t exclude the possibility that Troyard was attacked, considering the story he told him. It wasn’t that hard to find out where Troyard was spending his free time: any townsman could follow him here. Approaching the cottage stealthily was also a piece of cake: the car could be left in the distance, and the rest of the way - covered by walk.

Cautiously looking around, Inaho went down the wet steps, feeling how his thin shirt was immediately soaked by the cold drops. The world within Inaho’s line of vision was sinking under the onslaught of rain, the lawns around the stone pathways resembled a swamp, and the small bushes and trees were leaning towards the ground. Inaho didn’t reach the pickup: halfway through, he clearly saw that the car was empty, the opened umbrella was lying near its wheel. Next moment he had to crouch down and hide behind an overgrown bush as he caught sight of someone moving around in the gazebo.

Inaho quietly made his way through the bushes and sneaked into the pine grove, making sure not to step on the brittle twigs. Boots were sticking in the mud, but rain concealed all the squishes of his footsteps. Wet hair was obscuring his vision, and shirt clung tightly to his body. Inaho leaned back against a tree, slightly out of breath. The smell of the pine tar was strong, but Inaho didn’t pay attention to the secondary sensations, it was like a switch had flipped inside his head. He looked out from his cover and realized his negative predictions had come true: Troyard wasn’t alone in the gazebo, the man from the pub was there too.

“Trillram, have you gone mad?” Troyard was desperately trying to free his arms, bound by the rope over his head. The rope was wrapped around one of the wooden props, supporting the gazebo roof. The knots were simple, five minutes would’ve been enough for Inaho to disentangle himself, but Troyard was unlikely to have the necessary experience. But above all things Inaho was worried of how the man managed to capture Troyard, because obviously Troyard wouldn’t have willingly agreed to this.

“Be quiet, baby, I’ve warned you.” Cold shivers ran down Inaho’s body when Trillram smiled in satisfaction and took out a pistol from the inside of his jacket. With one hand he roughly grabbed Troyard’s hair and forced him to bend his head back, his other hand lowered the barrel to Troyard’s abdomen, and Trillram slowly moved it up from Troyard’s belly to his chin, rubbed it over Troyard’s lips and then shoved it in his mouth. “Oh, how I want your pretty lips to play with my cock the same way, Slaine. Why are you so stubborn? If only you’ve slept with me after your ex-lover left… What was his name? Barouhcruz? ...Who knows, maybe I’d have already forgotten about you. But no, you didn’t allow anyone to approach you. Up until recently.”

The shadow of fear flashed in the wide-open sea-blue eyes. Inaho’s fingers gripped the tree trunk so hard the top layer of its bark came off. He choked down his anger only when Trillram began rubbing his groin against Troyard’s thigh, still holding the pistol inside Troyard’s mouth and forcing Troyard to look at his face. Inaho took a deep breath, calming down. He tried to calculate his chances of success: he had no weapons, and an open attack would make Trillram instantly blow out his brains. Still, to return to the house to call the police meant to leave Troyard for a long period of time, and then nothing would stop Trillram from carrying out his despicable plans. Also Inaho knew he wouldn’t succeed to get behind Trillram unnoticed: the space between the grove and the gazebo had nothing but the green lawn.

Inaho smoothed back his wet hair so that it wasn’t obstructing his view, and moved away from the safe screen of trees. All he could hope for was to distract Trillram with a conversation and to get to a distance where he’d be able to knock the pistol from the man’s hands and turn the possible resistance into a close fight. The plan was basing on improvisation, absolutely unreliable and put in jeopardy Inaho’s life. Yet when he realized what misery would befall Troyard, Inaho ceased to think about himself.

“Well-well-well, look who we do have here!” Trillram drawled, stepping away from Troyard and pointing the pistol at Inaho. Inaho’s guess that Trillram wouldn’t fire immediately if Inaho wasn’t attacking him was correct: it was harder for civilians to pull the trigger, and, going by Troyard’s story, the man had a wife, and that fact could become a deterrent. Maybe his wife was why Trillram waited for so long before committing an assault upon Troyard. “Kaizuka Inaho, the piece of shit who stole this yummy ass from me.”

Trillram stroked Troyard’s buttocks, and Troyard jerked, turning away to avoid both Inaho’s and Trillram’s staring. Trillram laughed mockingly, but Troyard’s acting didn’t deceive Inaho. Troyard was still trying to work his hands free from the ropes. Inaho made an attempt to distract Trillram with talk.

“Have you thought how the consequences of your actions are going to affect your wife?”

“I don’t fucking care about that bitch!” Inaho took a couple of steps forward, but Trillram lifted his pistol in warning. From a closer distance Inaho recognized the model: a self-loading Czech Kevin ZP98, small size, frame made of a high-strength aluminium alloy, the barrel and slide of steel, 6 rounds magazine capacity - an ideal choice for a self-defense weapon, and, most importantly, accessible on sale. “You shouldn’t have come here, Kaizuka. Slaine and I would’ve just quietly sorted things out. Slaine is a smart boy, I doubt he would’ve complained, but now I’ll have to get rid of both of you. Maybe I’ll even play with both of you, how do you like that? Stand there and don’t move. I’ll come closer to tie you up.”

Inaho gave no sign of appreciating Trillram’s idiocy. Of course, neither Trillram, nor Troyard could have known that two years ago Inaho was considered to be one of the best professional bodyguards. Trillram slowly walked out from the gazebo, aiming his pistol at Inaho, and Troyard didn’t waste any time: pulled his body up, sat on the railing, looked at the knots and began to untie them, helping himself with teeth. He, surely, would’ve gotten free much faster if he stopped being distracted with casting anxious glances at Inaho. Nevertheless, Inaho planned to deal with Trillram before Troyard could rush to help him and endanger himself.

When Trillram was exactly two steps away, Inaho darted forward so fast that Trillram didn’t have enough time to react. Inaho threw all his weight behind the motion and landed a knifehand strike against Trillram’s wrist joint. The man’s grip on pistol weakened, and the gun fell to the ground. Trillram cried out in surprise and pain, but didn’t panic and evaded Inaho’s attempt to grab him and perform a front choke. They battled, ignoring the rain, exchanging blows, moving across the lawn, and Inaho quickly realized that Trillram must have gone through military education and training: he understood the basics of close combat.

Spatters of rain were flying everywhere, Trillram’s face burned with rage. There was a big bruise on his chin - that must have been where Troyard’s punch landed earlier in the day. Their clothes soaked and became heavier, slowing down the movements. Inaho’s muscles ached: it had been a long time since his body was undergoing such heavy physical activity; excessive focusing also put strain on his head. Inaho managed to knock Trillram on the ground, but missed the foot sweep, and didn’t expect Trillram to pounce on him before he could roll to the side.

Unfortunately, his reflexes weren’t working as properly as in the past. Inaho couldn’t block the punch in time: he took it right on the chin - firm and precise. Pain flared inside his head, the world before his eyes blurred, the sounds of rain transformed into a continuous ringing. The weight, pressing his body into the ground, disappeared. Inaho blinked, trying to get his bearings, and turned over, spitting out blood and learning to breathe again. The muddy shoe immediately kicked him hard in the stomach, and his elbows buckled from the new surge of pain. Inaho’s forehead touched the dirt.

“Get away from him, you son of a bitch!”

Inaho somehow rolled on his back, welcoming the feeling of cold raindrops against his hurting lips. Water was running down his face, preventing him from grasping what was happening behind the mess of what his eye-sight had become: a bright swarm of circles and divided silhouettes. Trillram’s voice seemed like the hissing of an enraged snake.

“Oh, you wouldn’t dare, you little cock-sucker!”

There were sounds of footsteps moving over the wet ground, close to him. Inaho buried his fingers in the soil, searching for support, and shut his eyes tightly to chase away the disorientation. When he opened them back, time seemed to stop. Troyard stood in front of Trillram, pointing the forgotten pistol at him. His hands were shaking, but his eyes were shining with an unalterable resolve. Trillram kept slowly approaching Troyard, and just then Inaho knew - Troyard was going to pull the trigger. He would pull the trigger and forever stain his hands with blood, doom himself for a life of nightmares and endless regrets. And Inaho couldn’t allow him to do that. What was the point of his meaningless life if he couldn’t defend a person, who had confided in him, trusted him? The person who was now ready to commit a grave sin to save him?

Attacking Trillram from behind and trying to hold him was useless: Trillram had already proved that he was in a better physical shape. Inaho wouldn’t hold out long against him with the injuries he had suffered. But Inaho could easily buy some time by pushing Trillram away. It should be enough to get to Troyard and retrieve the pistol. Trillram roared, not expecting an assault from behind, but Inaho pulled him off balance by grabbing his hair and violently bending his head back, at the same time kicking him at the back of his knee. He won only a few seconds but it was enough to stagger to Troyard. Thin fingers obediently released the pistol’s grip.

“Don’t move.” Inaho spoke hoarsely, but Trillram ignored him and saw red. Inaho raised the pistol and fired, once. He wasn’t aiming to neutralize and wasn’t going to, he was shooting to kill, the years of honed reflexes came to life. The shot resounded, drowning whispers and pitter-patter of rain, crashing against the gazebo roof. There was no blood splatter: the cascade of water devoured everything. Trillram silently fell to the ground with a gaping scarlet hole in his forehead. Slowly, a pool of blood trickled beneath his head. Inaho tossed the pistol aside.

“In-n-naho…” Troyard’s lips were shaking so much. He pressed himself close to Inaho’s back and hid his head on his shoulder, enveloping him in a painful embrace. Inaho heard a muffled sob, but only had enough strength to squeeze Troyard’s icy hand. The adrenaline rush was clearly over, fatigue and pain welled up inside his body. It was wiser to go back to the house and call the police while Inaho could still stand on his feet, while they both didn’t catch the pneumonia. “I’m s-so sorry. I’m sorry. Sorry. Please. I’m so sorry, Inaho.”

Troyard continued to apologize, but Inaho didn’t understand what he was apologizing for, and blamed his feverish mutterings on the shock.

Afterwards Inaho could by no means remember how they had returned to the house.

-6-

_“What I spent, I had; what I saved, I lost; what I gave, I have.”_  
© German motto, author unknown

The police continued the interrogation after they had moved to the clinic. Lying in bed, Inaho tried not to fall asleep under the effect of painkillers. Troyard looked like a ghost and sat on a chair near the bed, holding tightly onto Inaho’s hand beneath the white sheet. He was coming alive only when questions were directed at him. The angry clattering of heels echoed from the hall: behind the closed door Yuki was going crazy from worry. The door lock clicked, the shutters shifted a bit, and one more policeman entered the room. Through the haze of the impending sleep Inaho could hear him saying: 

“We’ve found his wife, she was tied and locked up in the closet. She can barely think now. Apparently, he had kept her there for a few days. I think there is no reason to continue questioning, we’ve already learned everything we wanted. Inform Kaizuka to visit the station when he’ll come round, we’d like to clear up some things.”

Inaho fell asleep before Yuki was able to storm the room. And when he did wake up, feeling a lot of pain, Troyard was nowhere in sight. Yuki had taken his place and was dozing, having flung a cardigan over her shoulders. Inaho looked around the room, hoping that Troyard had fetched his smartphone when they were leaving the cottage in an ambulance, but the bedside locker and the windowsill were empty. It seemed like to check on Troyard he would have to be discharged from the clinic first, and that would probably take several days. At least nothing was threatening Slaine’s life anymore.

Inaho touched his hand, remembering how Troyard was holding it only a short time ago, and realized that he had called Troyard by his name for the first time in his head.

Drought had come to the town amidst the hot June, and screaming headlines flooded the local newspaper. Although the names were not mentioned, rumors quickly spread around the town, and after leaving the clinic Inaho ended up being the target of curious and sympathetic looks. However, he was used to it, but whether Troyard could handle the pressure Inaho didn’t know. Troyard was probably hiding at home, because he never visited Inaho while Inaho was staying under observation at clinic. He also didn’t pick up his phone, though Inaho asked Yuki to bring him his smartphone specifically for trying to contact Troyard.

The sun hovered high in the sky and was adorned by thin clouds. Light wind ruffled the tree tops, but Inaho had absolutely no desire to approach the gazebo. The cottage was drowning in silence, the cups, forgotten on the kitchen table, were the first thing Inaho noticed after stepping inside. He touched one of them, and a thin layer of dust coated his finger. Despite the visit of the police all things were at their rightful places, but Inaho no longer felt the same ease. He wearily slumped on the stool, leaned his arms on the table and rubbed his face. The echo of the shot still rang in his ears as a ghostly reminder.

He had killed people before Trillram, but had no fascination for murder. First and foremost, the profession of a bodyguard obliged him to avoid danger, and an open confrontation with an assailant was considered to be a desperate measure. Once, Asseylum decided to go to her country residence and ignored Inaho’s warnings. He had been trying to dissuade her from the trip for two weeks, his suspicions about a forthcoming assassination attempt were corroborated by facts, but she just smiled kindly, patted his back and said that he should stop being concerned for her so much, because she wasn’t a little girl. That day Inaho had killed three people, while Asseylum rested calmly within the walls of her luxurious residence. Yet the danger could have been avoided, and those three ugly deaths wouldn’t be now on his conscience.

Inaho felt the beginning of a throbbing headache. He wanted to see Troyard. To make sure that he was okay. To touch him, to feel how furiously the pulse was beating under the pale skin, to enjoy the familiar warmth of his body. To get in bed with him and bicker about any kind of nonsense, so it could make the bad memories fade and cease to distress him. To take a nap, breathing in the wonderful smell of his body, and smile discreetly when blonde hair would tickle his nose. Inaho rested his hands against the table, thoughtfully looking at the empty entryway.

When did he become attached to Troyard? Was it love? The warm, peaceful feeling seemed so strange - it was utterly unlike anything he felt for Asseylum. There was no ache, no unease, and he doubted neither his words, nor his actions - neither his own, nor Troyard’s. He didn’t have to ask Troyard for anything and didn’t have to talk sense into him, he didn’t need to explain his actions and receive a saddened smile if something went wrong. There were no more doubts and no more regrets. Finally, he didn’t live in a dream, but simply - lived. And amidst this leisurely flow of everyday life Inaho felt himself more than comfortable. He needed Slaine Troyard.

The only thing was that, for some unknown reason, reaching Slaine Troyard became impossible. Troyard didn’t pick up his phone, and the owner of the house, where Troyard had been renting his room, just shrugged and said in a dismissive tone that she hadn’t seen Troyard since the “incident”. Inaho went to the car repair shop, met with Troyard’s guardian, but the man also stayed silent. Taking a draw at his cigarette, he examined Inaho from head to foot, smoothed the collar of his red coveralls and said that Slaine would contact him if he’d want to. While Inaho was crossing the street, he could almost feel the man’s smirk burning his back.

Inaho wandered around the town for a few more days: visited shops, Troyard’s favorite café, waited for him near his work and even asked Calm for help, but all in vain - Troyard seemed to have vanished into thin air. Inaho got used to waking up alone in the morning, when the nightmares were particularly vivid; he stumbled to the bathroom and leaned his forehead against the mirror, wishing for only one thing: to hear an irritated “Kaizuka!” behind his back.

Help came from an unexpected source. Inaho didn’t hope for a miracle anymore and aimlessly roamed the house, from time to time checking his phone out of habit. The sun was high above the cottage, shades of serene sea absorbed the summer sky, and windless calm ruled over the green hills. Inaho had just come out of the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist, when his phone rang. Yuki’s voice sounded unsettled and a bit shy:

“Nao, I understand that this isn’t my business, and that we’ve never really talked about it, but...” Yuki paused and sighed decisively. “But you looked so peaceful since autumn, so I think you should know. Slaine leaves today, Nao. He’s just come to see me before leaving, wanted to thank me for everything. I can’t get off work right now to pick you up, but I’ve called Calm, and he said he’d be at your place in a few minutes. If Slaine is important to you, Nao... Please, hurry. Saazbaum must’ve already taken him to the ferry.”

“Yuki,” Inaho suddenly felt a lump in his throat. “Thank you.”

“Oh, be sure, we’ll discuss my zero chances of becoming an aunt later!” Yuki added a bit sternly before ending the call.

Inaho barely had time to put on his jeans as Calm signaled him from the parking area. Inaho buckled his belt and grabbed the first thing he saw from the wardrobe, not even pausing for a second to inspect it. He was already halfway to Calm’s SUV when he slipped the garment on and realized that it was Troyard’s leather vest. Troyard had left it at Inaho’s house back in April and seemed to forget about it entirely. Calm couldn’t resist laughing at the sight of his half-naked chest and arms, but Inaho hastily fastened the metal clasps and said: 

“Proceed.”

“Aye, Sir!” Calm jokingly saluted him and pushed the accelerator. A few minutes later the country road ended, and the car ran along the empty highway. Hills and dry fields flashed before Inaho’s eyes: nature was obviously suffering from the heat. The town seemed oppressed by the sweltering too, but quite soon the SUV left it behind. Inaho didn’t remember the ferry sailing schedule, but was aware that he would have no more chances to stop Troyard. The ferry arrived only once a week, so if Inaho missed Troyard now, he would have no more ways to pursue him: hardly anyone would agree to send a helicopter to the town due to Inaho’s whim.

Calm was forced to slow the car down when the road turned into the spiral highway. Inaho leaned out of the side window, trying to get the view of the bay through the abundant thickets, but the wind immediately ruffled his hair, and the sun blinded him. He sank back on the seat, feeling dissatisfaction. Time was slipping away like sand through his fingers. Finally, the brakes screeched, and the SUV appeared onto the familiar quay. Calm had not yet managed to park the car when Inaho already jumped out of it and ran, dodging between the crowded rows of assembled vans: apart from dealing with passengers, the ferry often carried a large variety of goods, which were transported to the town.

Inaho was relieved to find that the ferry hadn’t left yet, its stern was docked to the quay. The lumpers were actively dragging boxes from the lower deck. Inaho noticed there were only a few passengers walking abroad the ferry, but Troyard was the first one he saw. He was leaning onto a white railing, blankly staring down at the water, caressing the starboard painted with blue paint. Tight jeans fit his legs perfectly; the edges of a gray linen shirt with short sleeves were covering his hips. Troyard also wore sneakers, and one of them was resting against the lower rail, as if Troyard wanted to jump off. A large sports bag lounged at his feet.

Inaho crossed the quay in a second and ran up the special side ladder for passengers, ignoring the shout of the female employee who was accepting payment for using the ferry services. Troyard turned around exactly when Inaho wordlessly picked up his bag and headed for exit, showing no hesitation. Curious whispers arose around them, drowning out the cries of the gulls; the rays of sun peeked out from under the fluffy cloud and colored the bay with golden lights. Inaho had to stop because Troyard abruptly grabbed the second bag handle and tried to pull his possession back.

“What the fuck are you wearing, Kaizuka?” Troyard blurted out, his cheeks were instantly covered by blush. “No, wait… What the hell are you doing here?”

“You are not going anywhere,” Inaho declared, not even thinking of loosening his grip. But he thoroughly studied Troyard’s appearance, noting how much he grew thin. Dark circles under his eyes betrayed the sleepless nights, lips were bitten, and his shirt looked crumpled. Troyard had always dressed with care, he would even take a shower after work before coming to Inaho, despite Inaho’s offer to do it at his place, but right now everything in his being exuded fatigue. A desire to hold Troyard in his arms exceeded all reasonable limits.

“You have no right to order me around!” Troyard gritted his teeth and once more tried to get his bag back. “It’s better like this, so just… leave!”

Inaho looked at the pale face and refused to surrender. They moved around the perimeter of the deck, trying to pull each other off balance. The bag handles were almost tearing, people giggled, fetching their smartphones, the female employee tried to persuade them to stop the farce and then asked the lumpers, who were working on the lower deck, to call the security. However, a minute later turned out that the good old security had disappeared inside the ferry to have lunch. An elderly man, supervising the lumpers’ work, climbed the ladder and tamped down tobacco in his pipe. His face seemed vaguely familiar, but Inaho didn’t recognize him at once as the man was without his glasses: it was the same old man that Troyard fled to after their bickering in the café.

“Kaizuka,” he snorted, lit his pipe and took a few short puffs. “Just tell him you love his ass. And finish the show, both of you.”

Inaho nodded. Perhaps, it was a good idea, given that Troyard absolutely didn’t want to leave the ferry.

“Slaine...”

“Not a word!” Troyard roared, his face flushed again. “Old man Hakkinen, please… what’s gotten into you?”

“I just want you to be happy, boy.” The man smiled good-naturedly and stepped to the side when the security staff passed him. “Just listen to your heart. It’s not so easy to find a haven where you’d want to stay.”

The security guards weren’t planning on discussing the problem: two strong men dragged both Inaho and Troyard off the ferry. Troyard jerked his shoulder, but didn’t resist and, as soon as his feet touched the pavement, walked fast away from the ferry, from the quay, from the passengers’ staring and from Inaho, leaving his sports bag lying near the side ladder. Inaho stubbornly followed him under the canopy of trees which surrounded the spiral highway.

“Stop following me! Have I not caused you enough pain?” Troyard turned to Inaho so hastily that Inaho almost knocked him off his feet, but instead grabbed Troyard’s elbows and steadied them both before they could collapse into the nearest bushes. The sea-blue eyes were full of tears, which Troyard desperately tried to hold back. The body under Inaho’s arms was shaking. “If only you didn’t get involved with me, nothing would’ve happened! Am I not a waste of skin if my lover has to kill people because of me? Why couldn’t I shoot him myself? Why… why did I give you the pistol?”

“Slaine, I was a bodyguard. I’ve killed people. It’s all right. I’m all right.”

Inaho tried to calm him down, but Troyard paled even more, and his fingers clawed at Inaho’s shoulders, leaving red marks. Sunbeams were dancing on a beautiful face when a windflaw ruffled the tree tops. Troyard lowered his eyes, his eyelashes trembled, his voice broke into a whisper:

“I doubt that makes it easier for you, Inaho…”

“No, that doesn’t make it easier,” he honestly answered, and tiredly pressed his forehead to Troyard’s cheek, closing his eyes. “But if you’re with me, it’ll get easier. I need you, Slaine. Stay.”

Troyard pressed his cheek against Inaho’s hair and hesitantly hugged him back. A minute later he was holding onto Inaho as if there no longer existed any other footing in the whole world. Warmth enveloped Inaho, and it was wonderful. Unearthly. Heavenly. They didn’t move for some time, silently enjoying the peace and listening to the soothing rustling of leaves.

“It’s not fair. You know I can’t resist you.” The tension was slowly leaving Troyard’s body, and he pulled away a bit to nuzzle Inaho’s nose. “So… are you saying I’ll have a personal bodyguard now?”

Inaho smiled, his hand reached under the grey shirt and caressed the place where an unusual tattoo was hiding. Troyard sighed so contentedly that for a second Inaho expected him to purr like a real cat. A yellow van unhurriedly drove past, and the driver leaned out of the window and whistled to them, at the same time honking the horn. Troyard jumped in a very amusing way.

“We can discuss my salary later, Bat.”

“Kaizuka!” Sea-blue eyes narrowed, but, despite the voiced threat, Slaine gently traced Inaho’s lips with his fingers. “I swear to God, one day I’ll think of a nickname that you’ll have to hear for the rest of your days.”

Inaho kissed the delicate palm and stilled, listening: the pleasant melody of bird singing rang amidst the empty highway. The world around was suddenly full of bright colors and sounds, which Inaho never really paid attention to. It was like a wonderful haven had finally embraced him - a home where loneliness no longer existed. A home for him and for Slaine. Inaho thought it wasn’t that bad a plan.

“I’ll hold you to that.”


End file.
